


A Collision of Morals

by UchiHime



Series: Things Collide [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Temperature Play, Unhealthy Relationships, still have no idea what I'm writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows it's not healthy, this thing that can't be called a relationship between him and Isaac. It's not healthy. It's not really right. But it's everything he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Collision of Morals

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story took my much longer than I'd intended. A Collision of Chaos was initially written with the intention of being a stand alone, but after posting it, I got the sudden urge to expand this 'verse. This story picks up almost directly after where the first story lets off and it's Stiles centric instead of Isaac centric. The series itself is going to be made up of one-shots from alternating points of view. While this story is similar in content to the first, the next story will ideally be less focused on the boys' internal conflicts and more focused on their relationship and their mating. There also should be less sexual content as well as the presence of more characters and more storyline. 
> 
> Eventually this series will containing mating, knotting, and mpreg. If that's a deal breaker for you, either stop reading now or continue reading up to the fic that has those things in the tags. As it is, this fic contains a few allusions to mating, but nothing explicitly stated about it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Stiles sat crossed legged in the bathtub, his back pressed against the plastic wall equidistance between the two built in shelves holding an eclectic collection of shampoo bottles and body wash. The warm water sloshed around him with every little movement he made. His cell phone sat on the counter next to the sink, filling the still room with music he wasn't paying enough attention to name. The bitter scent of vinegar hung thick in the air, wafting up from his bath water. The smell of the acid turned his stomach, but it was the only thing that could wash Isaac's scent off of him enough to fool a werewolf. He sat still: unmoving, unfeeling, unthinking.

Time passed measured only by unheard songs. The warm water of the bath grew cool. Stiles’ skin began to prune. Still, he sat there, eyes firmly fixed on an unseen point ahead of him, mind blissfully empty. He would not think of Isaac and candle wax, of ill spoken words that tasted sour on his tongue as he recalled them. He would not think of broken boys, kicked while they were down and stabbed in the back, retreating through windows and into the unforgiving night. He would not think of it!

He could not. Or else he just might break. He might fall apart. He might give in to the hostile voices within himself screaming for repentance.

No. He would not, could not think of these things. He did not do anything wrong. He had not done anything wrong.

He weeps because he knows the words are lies. He weeps because he hates what he has done. What he’s done to Isaac. Poor Isaac. Isaac who’d already been hurt so much. Isaac who’d gone from an abusive parent to an unstable guardian. Isaac didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this! Stiles knew this. He knows it. But he could not, cannot stop.

Somewhere along the line, Stiles feared, he had lost his mind.

He didn’t know when or how it had happened. He just realized one day that he wasn’t the same person. He hadn’t understood fully what that meant until Isaac. Sweet, beautiful Isaac. So broken and vulnerable. The facade of childish bravado he wore like an armour to protect him from the world only served to entice something within Stiles.

Stiles hadn’t known himself capable of such cruelty until he’d had Isaac at his will. On his knees before him, mouth filled with Stiles’ cock, tongue working eagerly, eyes filled with a burning desire to please. Stiles had gazed upon that beautiful sight and wanted to destroy it. Wanted to destroy him. He’d wanted to break apart Isaac’s armour and reveal the vulnerable boy within and to land blow after blow on him until he was bruised and broken and terrified. Until the little boy within Isaac was the same as the little boy within Stiles.

Bruised and broken and terrified.

He didn’t understand these wants and desires. He’d never thought he’d had it in him to be unneededly cruel to another person. Everything Stiles ever thought he knew about himself and the world was being proven wrong. The monsters of nightmares existed and were free to walk the world in the light of day. And, while trying to fight these monsters, Stiles feared he’d become one himself.

After a childhood fascination with superheroes, Stiles had become a villain. A villain who pushed people down despite their hesitation and took what he wanted from them. He placated his guilt by saying that if Isaac really didn’t want it, he was more than capable of pushing Stiles away. Isaac was a werewolf. He was bigger and stronger than Stiles. Very few things were able to keep him in a position he did not wish to be in. Isaac had been on his floor, covered in hot wax, because he’d wanted to be there not because Stiles had forced him there. It was his choice, even if he acted as if he didn’t want it.

Despite knowing this, Stiles was not entirely pacified. He knew the nature of the consent in his and Isaac’s relationship was dubious at best from both parties. Could this thing between them even be called a relationship? It was more of an itch that neither could resist scratching. An addiction that needed filling. Stiles was a incapable of staying away from Isaac as Isaac seemed to be of staying away from him.

There was just something about Isaac. His jawline alone was something to hate. And his eyelashes were made from the wings of baby angels. His body was sculpted from marble. His eyes… Stiles wasn’t even going to start on his eyes, or his lips for that matter. But, physical beauty aside, because no one had ever said Isaac Lahey wasn’t beautiful, what drew Stiles in like a moth to flame was Isaac’s heart. A heart at war with itself. Isaac was a good person in a bad situation and he didn’t know how act or react. He wanted to both hide and to get them before they got him. The abused child he had been didn’t know how to cope with his newfound strength and need guidance, needed someone to take control to tell him what to do, to lay out boundaries and make rules.

Stiles could see this need within Isaac and it brought out the worst in him. He was more than willing to give Isaac the boundaries he so desperately needed. He was okay with making rules and setting punishments. He enjoyed taking control over someone’s life, because his own was so out of control. He liked being exactly what Isaac needed.

The cocky Isaac who’d spoken so casually about killing Lydia attracted Stiles just as much as the Isaac he’d once seen cowering in a corner. There something about knowing that Isaac was strong and powerful. It made forcing his submission that much more rewarding. Because Isaac was capable of breaking Stiles, of destroying him, but instead he fell to his knees and serviced him.

And Isaac’s ability to destroy Stiles wasn’t only a physical thing. Isaac had no idea just how much control he really had over Stiles. Stiles craved him. Stiles needed him. On a deep mental, emotional, level Stiles knew. He knew that if Isaac ever decided that he didn’t want what they had anymore, it would just destroy him. He would have nothing left.

Stiles wasn’t in love with Isaac, not really. There was a small bit of a twisted affection inside of him reserved for the other boy, but it was not love. Could not really ever be love with the way things stood between them. But even with not being in love with him, there were some things that Stiles loved about Isaac.

He loved his hair. The curly blond locks were soft and the perfect length for Stiles to run his fingers through and grab angry handfuls to yank Isaac head around to whatever position he wished it to be in, forcing the wolf to bare his throat while Stiles fucked his mouth nice and hard.

Stiles really loved Isaac’s mouth. Those plump pink lips as soft as rose petals and that wicked tongue that never seemed to stop moving and his teeth that sometimes made a guest appearance putting Stiles’ pleasure just this side of pain. It was all so hot and moist and when Isaac took Stiles down his throat and swallowed around him, Stiles swearhe saw heaven.

He loved Isaac’s ass, too. So hot and tight, opening up for him and taking all he had to offer. He loved being inside of Isaac. Being surrounded by his clenching muscles, squeezing the air from his lungs and the sense from his brain. He loved having Isaac beneath him, writhing from the pleasure with the most delicious sounds falling from his lips.

But more than he loved any of that, he loved Isaac’s cock. He hadn’t realized he would love it so much until he’d had it inside of him, stretching him taut and filling him completely. And the way Isaac looked beneath him while Stiles road him hard and fast! There were just somethings that couldn’t be put to words.

Stiles could feel a stirring in his loins just from the memory of having Isaac inside of him, but he elected to ignore it because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about these things in the first place. Because, while they brought him pleasure in the moment, given time...yep, right on cue the regret and remorse set in.

Stiles stood and pulled the plug from the tub and turned on the shower while the vinegar and water drained around his feet. He stood back away from the spray while he waited for the cold water to warm, then moved under it and started to properly clean himself. Forcing himself to focus on the task instead of the emotions roiling around inside of him.

* * *

 

Stiles didn’t count the days and weeks the passed after Isaac’s visit. He didn’t let himself think about it. Instead, he got things done. He did research, hung out with Scott, brought his dad lunch at work, hung out with Lydia, cleaned the entire house top to bottom, annoyed Derek, wished he’d thought to get a summer job, hung out with his dad, went to Jungle, hung out with his Drag Queen friends, did some online shopping, hung out with Scott more, cleaned the entire house top to bottom again, did more research, and ignored the gnawing urge deep within him to seek Isaac out.

An entire month passed in a haze of him forcing himself to keep busy in order to keep from going to Isaac. He would not go to Isaac. If this thing between them was to continue, it would be because Isaac came to him. Because if Isaac came to him, it meant Isaac wanted it and Stiles didn’t need to feel guilty.

He knew it was only a matter of time until Isaac came to him. He resisted, but in the end he always came back.

Stiles passed the nights opposite the way he passed his days. When the sun set and the moon and stars ruled the skies, Stiles would allow himself to think of Isaac, only of Isaac. He’d think of Isaac as he discarded his clothing, dropping his shirt in the hamper and leaving his jeans at the foot of the bed and tossing his underwear across the room. He’d think of Isaac as he crawled onto the bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling. He’d think of Isaac as the felt a familiar stirring in his groin. And Isaac was all that was on his mind when he took himself in hand.

He imagined things differently between them. He imagined gentle touches and caring words. He imagined affection showing in their eyes instead of just lust. He imagined consent that wasn’t at all dubiously given. He imagined Isaac sucking his cock because he wanted to and not because Stiles shoved it in his face. He imagined Isaac opening up so easily for him as he fucked him. He imagined Isaac fucking him slow and deep. He imagined kisses.

Stiles didn’t understand how something as simple as an imagined kiss was enough to send him over the edge, except that kissing was something he and Isaac had never done. He’d touched and fucked Isaac just about everywhere, but he’d never kissed him. Kissing was somehow too… innocent for them and it was much too intimate for what they were doing to each other. Their relationship wasn’t about love or affection or any of the other things he allowed himself to think of only in the dark of night. Their relationship was about power, dominance, control, and release. It was a sort of coping mechanism. A way to gain some balance in a life quickly spiralling out of control.

Their relationship didn’t require kisses. Even the imagined ones were unnecessary. Kisses implied that they were something more than they are.

Stiles pulled open the drawer by the bed and retrieved some tissues. He clean the spilled semen from his torso and hands, before wadding the tissues and tossing them away. He ignored the sense of unfulfillment he felt clinging to him.

* * *

 

When Isaac finally came to him, Stiles was filled with a near palpable sense of relief, he didn’t think he’d be able to make himself stay away for much longer if Isaac had dragged this on. He also felt a bit angry, because Isaac had no right to keep him waiting for so long and the wolf was going to pay for this. But mostly he felt excitement, because finally Isaac was back right where he wanted him: within Stiles’ reach and at his will.

Stiles had just gotten out of the shower and was wearing nothing but a towel when he entered his room and found Isaac sitting in his computer chair. The wolf didn’t even look up when Stiles entered the room, his eyes were trained on the floor and his head was bowed in submission.

Stiles paused in the doorway for just a second, surprised to see Isaac there and with those warring emotions welling up in him. Then a slow roguish grin spread across his face and he let his towel slip from his waist as he crossed the room. Isaac still didn’t look up when Stiles was standing right in front of him. He didn’t meet Stiles’ eyes. Didn’t speak a word. Stiles didn’t care. He reached out a leg and pressed it down on the lever on the side of the chair, making Isaac quickly drop low to the floor, bringing his head level with Stiles’ cock.

Stiles was already half hard when Isaac finally looked up at him, head still bowed and eyes peering through his long lashes. A moment passed between them, heavy with unspoken words, then Isaac let his eyes fall close and leaned forward, swallowing down Stiles’ cock in one swift movement.

Stiles bit down on the inside of his cheek to hold at bay the sounds fighting to escape his lips. He twined his fingers through Isaac’s curly hair and didn’t even bother with fighting back the urge to thrust his hips, sliding his cock between those plump red lips and down Isaac’s throat. Isaac gagged the first couple of times Stiles’ fucked his face, but by the third thrust he’d relaxed his throat and just accepted it.

Stiles gripped tighter on Isaac’s hair and he fucked his mouth with quick, punishing thrusts. There were tears welling at the corners of Isaac’s eyes and his hands were gripping tight at Stiles’ hips. His nails were digging into Stiles’ skin so hard Stiles’ didn’t doubt there would be bruises and maybe even little crescent moon shaped scratches there later, but he was glad to note that Isaac was keeping his claws sheathed.

Stiles let a low moan escape his lips as his continued rocking his hips into that warm, moist cavern. One of his hands left Isaac’s hair and settled on his neck instead. Stiles could feel his cock against his hand every time his slid down Isaac’s throat. For some reason, that was even hotter than just having Isaac swallowing him. He could feel his orgasm building up, ready to burst from him. But, as much as he wanted to shoot down Isaac’s throat, that would be too easy. He needed to punish Isaac for leaving him for so long and already knew exactly what that punishment entailed. He was prepared for it.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of Isaac’s mouth, hearing the sharp intake of breath Isaac took as suddenly being able to breathe without hinderance. Stiles stepped back, watching Isaac panting for breath and seeing those gray eyes peer up at him through those long lashes. They stayed like that for a moment, both just staring at each other, before Stiles finally turned away unable to hold that heavy gaze any longer.

“Take your clothes off and wait for me,” he ordered tersely, turning and heading out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Downstairs in the kitchen, Stiles took a moment to compose himself. He didn’t understand why his heart was suddenly pounding so fast, just from looking Isaac in the eye. He didn’t understand his trembling hands, or the heavy weight suddenly pushing down on him. He inhaled deeply, feeling his lungs expand with air, and let it go slowly. As long as he could breathe, he was alright. As long as he could breathe, nothing else mattered.

Feeling more steady, Stiles turned to the refrigerator and pulled opened the freezer. He’d prepared for Isaac’s return. He’d prepared for how he was going to punish the boy.

Isaac had really seemed to enjoy how heated things had gotten with the candle wax last time, and it had made Stiles wonder what kind of enjoyment Isaac would get in the temperature play went in the opposite direction. He’d found instructions online for homemade ice dildos, and waited until his dad was gone all day to make one.

The [instructions ](http://www.symtoys.com/sensation_ice.html)were simple enough and Stiles took the time to go the extra distance. He’d patiently boiled and cooled the water before freezing it so that the finished product would be transparent. He’d even lined the tube with bubble wrap to give some interesting textures. Though he hadn’t gotten too carried away with it. He’d made it small, not much longer than a toilet tissue roll, and thin. Something that could disappear inside Isaac’s ass and sit there comfortable, the hot vice like clamp around it making the ice melt quickly but not too quickly. After it was done and frozen, Stiles had hid the cold toy in the back of the freezer, under bags of frozen vegetables so that his dad wouldn’t find it.

He dug it out now, as well as a few ice cubes and put it all in a bowl of water. Taking another second to make sure he was as composed as he could be in the current situation, Stiles carried the bowl back up to his room. Pausing outside the door, Stiles listened carefully. There was no sound coming from inside, and he half expected Isaac to have realized just how insane he was coming to Stiles and ran away. Stiles wouldn’t blame him for leaving. This was crazy, after all. But when he opened the door, Isaac was right there, standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, his cock standing at attention, his arms hanging at his sides, but with a look in his eyes Stiles had never seen.

Isaac didn’t look reluctant, scared, or resigned. There was a fire in his eyes, a strength he’d never shown Stiles. An eagerness and determination. It sent a thrill right through Stiles and caused his still hard cock to twitch and dribble precum. Stiles grinned and crossed the room in quick, determined strides. “On to the bed,” he ordered, and Isaac eagerly complied.

* * *

 

This was the first time he’d had Isaac in his bed. Sure, he’d bent the wolf over it a couple of times while he fucked him, and had sat on the bed while Isaac knelt before him with Stiles’ cock in his mouth, but this was the first time Isaac had ever properly been in his bed. Stiles couldn’t help but think he liked the sight.

Or maybe it was just the view Stiles liked, because Isaac was on his hands and knees in the center of the bed with his thighs parted for Stiles to fit between them. His ass was in the air, beautiful and perfect and just downright tempting. His cock hung hard and heavy between his legs, bobbing in the air every time one of them shifted.

Stiles had his hands on the beautiful mounds of flesh that made up Isaac’s ass. Moulding it under his palms, spreading the cheeks with his fingers, and admiring the dark rosette hidden between them. He wanted to taste it, wanted to swipe his tongue across Isaac’s tight asshole and rim him until he cried, but he refrained himself. Tonight was not the night such things. This was about punishing Isaac, not pleasing him. Maybe one day, though. One day soon hopefully.

Stiles had done some...experimenting on himself. When the idea had started formulating in his mind, he’d been curious about exactly what he’d planned to subject Isaac to. So, he’d tried it on himself. Not the actual ice dildo, but a couple of ice cubes. Late one night he’d slipped one, and then two of them inside himself. They’d gone in with very little resistance, not even requiring lubing or stretching. He’d held them inside of him, clenched down around them until they were nothing but little teardrops of water dripping out of him with each roll of his hips.

So he knew what Isaac was feeling when he pressed the dripping wet ice against his taint. He knew exactly what caused the shudder that went through the other boy when the dildo circled his hole. He knew the origins of the cry that fell from those red, pouty lips when the whole thing slipped inside him and his ass swallowed it up, leaving not even a little of it hanging out.

It was a strange feeling. It hurt, but not really. It froze him from within, shrinking his scrotum as he searched for warmth. Eventually he would stop feeling it. Like holding you hand in iced water too long, it just grew numb, until... Isaac shifted his hips, and let out another cry as the ice moved inside him, finding a still warm place to press against starting the pained coldness all over again. And all the while, his body grew more heated. His skin flushed a fevered red. His cocked flagged a bit, but remained hard and tempting and Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He stared at Isaac’s clenching hole, watched little rivulets of water spill out of it, and had to bite back a moan of desire. He wanted to be inside Isaac. He wanted his cock buried in that tight ass alongside that frozen dildo. He wondered would the ice bother him, or would the heat of Isaac’s body more than make up for the coldness. He wondered which would drive Isaac mad first: the frozen numbness of the ice, or the ruthless pounding of Stiles’ hot cock. Each snap of his hips would churn his insides, unsettling the ice and making it touch somewhere knew, drawing sweet cries from Isaac’s bruised lips.

God, he wanted this so much, but he couldn’t. Something deep in his very soul was screaming that he needed to have Isaac inside him not the other way around. Not this time. He would get his chance soon, but for now he needed Isaac in him.

He guided Isaac so that the wolf was flat on the bed, lying on his back. Stiles lifted himself and swung a leg over Isaac’s waist so that he was sitting astride the other teen. He stared down into the other’s gray-blue eyes, so the pain and desire and fear and want in them, and knew the same things were reflected in his own eyes. He grinned. Isaac’s hands came and rested on Stiles’ waist, and Stiles grabbed captured his wrists and moved them away. He guided Isaac’s hands over the his head and waited for the wolf to get his message and grip the headboard.

Isaac’s claws sprang free as his fingers wrapped around the wood and his eyes flared golden for the briefest of seconds. Seeing how close the wolf was to losing control ignited something in Stiles. He had a wild beast in his bed. A strong and dangerous animal. And it was completely under his control. He knew that Isaac would do whatever he wanted, accept whatever he dealt. He knew Isaac would never hurt him. For a brief moment he thought that maybe he should be concerned with himself hurting Isaac, but just as quickly he knew that he never would. This was something they both wanted, and sure there’d never been any concrete boundaries laid out, there’d been no talking or discussion at all  just acting on something primal and instinctual, but that was okay. For them, it was okay. Because the lines were there. They both could see them as if they were drawn in neon colors. And neither of them would even think of crossing them.

There was a lot Stiles did not understand about his relationship with Isaac, but there was something like a voice in the back of his mind making sure he knew the important things. And that was enough for now.

He dipped his fingers in the bowl of water next to them and pulled out an ice cube.

* * *

 

Stiles slowly traced an ice cube down Isaac’s chest, circling his nipples with it and outlining every ridge of his abs. Isaac was writhing on the bed, trembling under the cold against his heated skin. His mouth hung open, releasing a mixed chorus of moans and whimpers.

Stiles watched the ice cube as he traced across Isaac’s chest, watched as it melted on his skin, little beads of water running down his sides. It took every ounce of his self control not to lean over and lick the water off. Instead, he brought the ice to his own lips and gripped it lightly between his teeth, relieving his fingers of the numbing coldness. He shifted his position atop the wolve’s lithe body and bent forward. With the ice between his teeth, he continued tracing across Isaac’s chest. Each time he exhaled, the burst of warm air heated the chilled flesh and Isaac would tremble as goosebumps raised on his skin.

He didn’t know how long he’d been dragging this on, but Stiles were pretty sure they were both at the point where they couldn’t take much more. He sucked the ice cube into his mouth and slithered his way back up Isaac’s body. Stiles twined his fingers through that curly hair he loved so much. He hesitated for a moment, before giving a mental ‘to hell with it’ and yanked hard. He took advantage of Isaac’s shocked gasp to crash their mouths together in a harsh kiss the was altogether too much tongue and teeth. The ice cube in his mouth was passed into Isaac’s and, after a shocked moment of stillness, passed back to him with a jerky movement of Isaac’s tongue.

They passed the ice between their sloppy open-mouthed kiss until it melted too small to be bother with, and still the continued licking into each other’s mouth, tongues circling and twining together and teeth clanking and closing around whatever was within reached. The greedily grabbed at each other, trying to get closer. Fingernails were dragged over skin and hair was ripped from roots. And all the while, a feverish heat built up in Stiles until he was sure of only one thing. “I need you to fuck me.”

There was a moment of stillness, a heavy silence between them, then Isaac’s hand was on his thigh and Stiles’ heart stuttered in his chest as the was suddenly flipped onto his back.  Isaac’s body settled on top of his, hot and heavy, his eyes bore into his own and Stiles forgot all about how he was meant to be punishing the wolf for avoiding him for so long. He forgot all about how they’re fucked up relationship made him feel. All he cared about was having Isaac inside of him and having him there now. After some clumsy prodding with lotion covered fingers, Stiles spread his legs wider and welcomed Isaan in.

“Ohhh fuck,” he breathed as Isaac slid into him, the initially discomfort at being stretched so far forgotten at the sensation of being so filled. Once Isaac bottomed out, he stilled. Stiles clenched and relaxed his muscles around that hard shaft and wanted to weep with joy. Having Isaac pressed in him completely was one of the best feelings in the world. “Oh god,” Stiles groaned, “Now. Fuck me now.”

And Isaac did. He slid his dick out until there was only the smallest bit of it for Stiles to cling to, then snapped his hips forward so hard the whole bed shifted and the headboard banged loudly against the wall.

Stiles draped his arms around Isaac’s shoulders, sliding his hands over the broad expanse of his back, and hung on as tight as he could. With each thrust, Stiles called out his appreciation for the near-punishing pace at which Isaac was fucking him, and still begging for “more, harder, fuck! Yes. Just like that. God! Fuck me! Isaac!”

Isaac’s hips pistoned, slamming his cock into Stiles hard and unforgiving. Stiles legs wrapped around the wolf’s waist, trying to force him in deeper. He absently noted that there was something wet on his calf and an extra loud moan tore from him when he realized that the ice dildo he’d shoved up Isaac’s ass had melted and the water was forcing it’s way out as Isaac fucked him. That was the filthiest thing he’d ever heard of and it was really turning him on.

“Stiles,” Isaac groaned the word like a prayer and a profanity all in one. Stiles reached a hand between them and wrapped it around his own cock. He was so close, they both were, just a bit more. Just. A. Bit.

“Fuck!” He felt Isaac explode inside him. He felt the hot seed coating his insides. Stiles erupted right after him, spraying across both their chests.

Stiles collapsed back against the bed, all a sudden boneless and lethargic. His chest heaved as he fought to regain his breath. He had to bite his lip to keep in the little whimper of displeasure that tried to slip free when Isaac pulled out of him and slumped on the bed beside him.

He glanced at Isaac out of the corner of his eye and was struck with the overwhelming urge to spoon. Well, not so much as spoon, but to hold him. To wrap Isaac in his arms, entwine their legs, and just hold him close, to cling to him. To breathe in his exhales, and card fingers through his hair, and count his eyelashes, and talk. Really talk. Talk about themselves, their childhood, their future, this fucked up thing between them.

Isaac rolled out of the bed and headed straight for his clothes. Stiles didn’t try to stop him. He watched his through heavy eyes as the wolf dressed quickly and headed for the window without a word. As Isaac disappeared from sight, Stiles was filled with a sadness deep in his soul. “Next time,” he promised himself, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

He felt so empty and cold without Isaac. He forced himself to get to his feet, deciding a warm bath would be just what he needed now. An overwhelming sorrow filled him at the thought. He didn’t want to wash Isaac off his skin. He wanted to hold him there for as long as he could.

Something warm rolled down his leg. Stiles looked down and saw Isaac’s seed spilling out of him and down his thighs. It, quite irrationally, felt like the end of the world. He’d yanked open his bedside drawer and pulled out the gemstone butt plug he’d bought online before he even realized what he was doing. There was one thought blaring his mind. He couldn’t let it all escape. He needed to keep Isaac inside of him as long as possible or he would ruin everything.

Situating himself back on the bed, Stiles bent his knees and spread his thighs. The plug slid easily inside his still loose hole. He didn’t understand half the thoughts in his head, but he decided not to dwell on it for now. He was still lethargic from the unbelievably intense orgasm he’d reached only minutes before. Right now, he would sleep. Later was the time for worries.

 

**Author's Note:**

> While there weren't any heavy bdsm content in this story, ice play is a form of temperature play which is part of of the bdsm lifestyle, so once more, I must state that this fic should not be taken as a how-to guide for bdsm relationship. Open communication, eager consent, and proper aftercare are required for a healthy bdsm relationship. This fic contains none of that and should really read like a poor representation of my personal fantasies. 
> 
> Feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://littleredridingwolves.tumblr.com) (which contains no bdsm fantasies, but a lot of fandom content and a few ficlets).


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